


Royal Lovers

by geniusincombatboots



Series: The Horse and The Swan [5]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, May I offer you some smut during these trying times?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23960305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniusincombatboots/pseuds/geniusincombatboots
Summary: Cut and extended love scenes from this series as it progresses, told through one shots.
Relationships: Éomer Éadig/Lothíriel
Series: The Horse and The Swan [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707502
Comments: 7
Kudos: 33





	1. Parting Gift

Lothiriel sat comfortably on Eomer’s lap as she looked over the papers her betrothed was shuffled into reorganization after they had decided on the appropriate responses. He shifted the pages with one hand, his other absently cupping her thigh, his thumb absently smoothing over her dressing gown.

“Will there be anything else, Your Majesty?” she asked, teasingly, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

He gave her one of those low grunting chuckles, putting the leather folio away, and locking it easily before looking back at her, as if considering, “Well, as long as I have you here,” he smiled, pressing his lips against her throat, her skin prickling with gooseflesh.

She bit her lip to keep herself from giggling, leaning against him as if moving without thought.

“Perhaps you would be so good as to divert me from my tiring duties,” he whispered against her neck.

“Of course. I am ever at your service,” she smiled, biting her lips again. His thumb pulled her lip gently from between her teeth, his eyes fixing on her lips, for a moment, that heated glint in his eyes, making her feel a fire in her blood. He seemed to smile at the color in her cheeks, as she fought to keep what little composure she had left.

He swept her easily up in his arms, gaining a quick squeak of surprise from her, as her small hands clasped at his shoulder, her grip easing as he settled her back onto the chaise in his sitting room, and her fingertips slipping under the collar of his shirt to feel his skin as she pressed her lips to his, pulling herself nearer to him, her tongue brushing against his lip testingly. She was becoming more confident in these stolen moments of intimacy, and she did not hesitate as Eomer’s hands held her tight to him, curling her easily to his body.

Lothiriel’s head tilted back as his lips reclaimed the flesh her neck, and the place where her neck met her shoulder, making her melt a little. He smiled against the smooth skin, warm and flushed and he nuzzled her gently up to the spot behind her ear. Some far absent part of Eomer’s mind wondered if anyone had ever been granted such closeness, but he knew it was an absurd question. Her innocence was beyond reproach by the archaic customs of her culture, and he could still see it in the small nervous twitches and hesitations that she fought, as she became more and more comfortable. She whimpered a little when he gave her thigh a soft squeeze, and he had to remind himself not to push her too far, even as he let his hand wander over the soft warm shape of her thigh. His eyes turned to hers for a moment, seeking assent but looking for any sign of discomfort.

An expression both coy, and a little shy lit her features, her hand tracing over his chest, feeling the muscles under his nightshirt. He leaned in closer to her, resting his forehead to hers, his hand tracing absently over her thigh, a lighter touch. For a moment, Lothiriel could see something flash in his eyes again, and she was coming to know that look well, and to be used to it, even if it was only ever there for a moment at a time. She liked that look, as she liked the way it made her feel, even if she was not sure of the words for it.

Eomer shifted her in his arms, her back resting against his chest, his hands stayed a moment, as if he were calculating something, and she rested her head back against his shoulder. For a moment she wondered if he simply meant to hold her again, and while she would offer no complaint, she also had a notion that it might be a shame that his desires seemed so often stopped short. His hand on her thigh gathered a small amount of her nightgown, and hesitated.

“May I?” he asked.

She blushed, looking down, and nodded her head.

He paused a moment, watching her features as he slowly bared her leg, stroking over the soft skin there, taking a deep breath, before he asked without any sense of hesitation, or anxiety, “May I touch you?”

“You already are,” she smiled at him, teasingly, shifting her leg a little under his hand. She felt so terribly nervous, and yet exhilarated as well.

“You know what I mean,” his voice a low growl, through his smile. She did not feel threatened at all, even if she did feel a little the way a deer might feel in the aim of a hunter.

She thought out what he was asking her, and finally replied, “I suppose I am curious. Should I touch you?” she blushed even harder, hearing her own words, and feeling stupid, her own naivety striking her, making her fully aware of how little she knew.

“No,” he kissed her jaw, his other hand, not occupied at present on her bare flesh, smoothed over her waist under her dressing gown.

“Should I not- “

Eomer made a low shushing noise against her neck, his fingers, sliding slowly along the inside of her thigh, from her knee, making her shift a little. His hand stopped, “If you would prefer I do not…” he let the words hang in the air.

She bit her lip again, “It tickles a little,” her thighs shifted apart a little, and she settled back against his chest.

“Try to relax,” he murmured.

She looked at him, a little nervously. No one else had ever touched her legs, let alone in such a way. His fingertips resuming the soft gentle trail over the fleshiest part of her thighs in slow circles before moving inward, his fingers finding the mound between her legs, and sliding between the folds of her sex. Instinctively, she shifted back from his hand. Her eyes widening on his for a moment as she tried to relax into his touch, biting her lip in embarrassment. His touch was not forceful, and he smiled a little as he watched her, his fingers finding the pearl hidden there, and he gently began to work his fingers over it.

“Does that feel alright?” he asked.

She nodded, wordlessly.

“Tell me,” he breathed against her shoulder, his lips trailing lazily over her skin.

She did not give an answer. It was a strange sensation, and she was not sure what she was expected to say. She had touched herself there before but had never had to put into words what it felt like to anyone else, for it was likely a shameful secret.

When she felt the waves coming over her, she tried to find words to describe the sensations slowly spreading through her. Her hips moved a little against his hand, unbidden and shaking a little. Eomer’s free hand moved slowly to hold her against him, as if he was afraid that she would move away from him. She leaned her head back against his shoulder as the smile spread over her lips, her breath coming a little harder, a gasping groaning whimper leaving her lips, as her eyes slid shut.

One of her hands reached back to cling to him, hold him in some small way, finding purchase in his hair, giving a little tug as the pleasure grew, burning through her blood. His breath on her cheek overwhelmed her, driving her a little closer to madness as she squirmed and mewled in his hold.

He was watching her closely over her shoulder, taking in every little twitch and shudder. The way her face contorted and her smiled fluttered, her shoulders pressing back against him.

“I love you,” he whispered against her cheek, his own desire pressing against the small of her back. His took hold on her hip impulsively tightened a little, holding her against himself as he urged her on.

His name left her lips, broken by gasping breaths and a high keen as the strongest tremor racked her frame, and for a moment she fell silent, every muscle tensing in ecstasy. She pressed her face into his neck, her voice cracking a little bit as she tried to quiet herself.

Eomer slowed his fingers, “my sweet little love,” he whispered, “do you want more?”

She panted a moment before answering, “I do not think that I can take more at present,” her voice full of her smile, and satisfaction. She looked up at him, thinking that she should be embarrassed at his hand still on her trembling quim. “Did you enjoy that?” she asked, a little confused by his action, but grateful for it besides. Her voice had a husky tone to it, and it made him want her all the more.

“Something to remember me by,” he smiled, his hand smoothing over her skin, and righting her nightgown delicately before kissing her.

“Should I not return so kind a gesture?” she asked.

“I wanted to hear you sing before I left for home,” he replied, as easily as he could, smirking a little.

“But-”

He shook his head, “I want you to understand that I mean to be a good husband to you, in my fashion. I want to please you, my love.”

She watched him, the splotching blush on her face and neck still visible but fading slowly, “You might need to teach me quite a bit,” she said, her heart hammering in her chest still as she moved to wrap her arms around his neck, “Will it always feel that way?”

He smiled, smoothing a hand over her hair, tucking her nightgown under her knees as if to make the point that he would be a perfect gentleman from then on, “I should hope so,” his touch was so gentle that it took her control not to wrap her legs around him, and pull him back against her. He leaned forward and kissed her, a far more chaste kiss before resting his forehead against hers.


	2. Wedding Night

The door closed, and while Lothiriel was sure people would momentarily wonder where they were, there was nothing that her kin could say or do to pull her out of his rooms and chastise her for sneaking off from the banquet with her husband, even if they had retired earlier than had likely been expected.

“Are you happy?” Eomer asked, smoothing his fingertips over her cheek, and down her neck, as if assuring himself that she was with him, or else savoring that she was in his arms.

“So far,” she trailed her hand over his chest. She stepped back, moving to undo the fasteners of his breastplate, and shoulder pauldrons, her hands shaking a little.

Eomer followed her with his eyes, smiling a little as she worked, and chewed her lip a little nervously. There was something alluring about his wife taking his armor off of him. He shifted his arms as she pulled the leather breastplate, hesitating as if she was not quite sure where to put it. He smiled and opened the trunk at the foot of the bed, jerking his head gently. Lothiriel carefully set the piece in the trunk, looking back up at him. He cupped her face gently in his hands, and pressed a kiss to each of her cheeks, his nose gently nuzzling against her face, smiling.

There was a flood of overwhelming emotions and running through them all as a steady current was that she felt safe, just as she should feel with him. She wondered if the shock of him being her husband would wear off in time, and she was sure in time it would be mundane, some fact that she would take for granted. She lifted herself up on her toes to kiss his lips, her hands grasping at his shoulders, pulling him down to her.

“My husband,” she smiled, murmuring quietly, pulling back from him, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, shifting his free hair back.

He leaned into her hands, his eyes closing for a moment. He opened his eyes, and took her hand, pulling her to sit with in front of the mirror. He lifted his crown from his brow, and she smiled at the few tendrils of hair left messy, he ran a hand over his hair to smooth them back in place.

She followed suit and passed her crown to him, handing the sturdy circlet carefully back to him to put beside his in their case.

Eomer turned back to look at her, “My queen,” he trailed his fingers over the skin of her shoulder along up her neck, a feather light touch making every hair stand on end. His hazel brown eyes studied her face in the mirror, his fingers moving along her jaw. She turned her face into his touch, grasping his hand and kissing his fingers. His fingers trailed to the back of her hair, gently taking the pins out, thick black curls falling free around her face. Her husband twisted one of the curls around his finger, a smile lighting his eyes.

It was strange to see him fixating on something so simple. The question she had meant to ask died on her lips as his found the crook of her neck again. She leaned back into him, smiling wide as his arms pulled her close. A small giggle left her throat as Eomer’s hand trailed over her waist, tracing the shape of her body.

He let out a low grunting chuckle, “You are so beautiful, my love.”

“Help me with the laces,” she whispered, “They are beyond my reach.”

There was another kiss on her shoulder, and then she could feel the tug on the ties at her back, until he could push the shoulders of her dress a little. Lothiriel reached back, catching one of his hands in hers. “There are… I have… The ambush…” she looked up at him anxiously, his own concerned gaze meeting hers, unwavering. “I have some scars.”

Eomer’s face relaxed, “As do I.” He stroked his fingers through her hair gently.

“Yes, but you are a warrior,” she retorted, looking up at him, “You are meant to have scars.”

He smoothed his hand over her hair, and stooped to kiss her again, shifting her dress down off of her shoulders, her shift holding with some difficulty.

She stood, slipping the fine material down off of her body, holding her shift in place, a little awkwardly. He was there behind her. She could feel his eyes on her, taking in what he could see of her, her body silhouetted through her shift by the candle light in the room. She turned quickly on him, and she reached for the ties on his tunic, the color coming into her cheeks under his gaze. His hands on her were gentle and did her best not to lay her head against his chest, and instead stepped back, gesturing for him to take his tunic and shirt off, and sitting on the edge of the bed, and kicking her mules off. She looked over the muscled form of his torso, blushing a little. She twisted some of the fabric of her shift between her fingers before standing back up and circled him slowly, her fingertips tracing over the warm skin of his back and his arms.

“If you would rather that we wait a little longer,” Eomer said, a low huskiness in his voice, “I would not object. I know you have made sacrifices for this union, my love, and the next few days may be particularly trying,” His hands were back on her, resting against her shoulders.

Lothiriel looked up, almost startled, “I want to know you, in that way, I mean. Even if I did not, I think they will take the bed linens in the morning.”

“They will not,” he replied with a careful firmness, “it was mentioned when we negotiated terms for the marriage, and I told your people outright that they had no authority to know what happens between us.”

She shook her head a little, looking down at her hands, “The battles you choose to fight are strange.”

“I did not want you to be forced to give up your claim, either,” he said, smoothing his thumbs over her shoulders.

“There is nothing that can be done. This is my life, and I can decide what I do,” she smiled, even though she did feel a sense of, not regret, but a sense of what she was giving up for him, and what she was gaining in exchange. She leaned forward and kissed him gently, pressing closer to him, and pulling him into the bed, his hands sliding over the shape of her, and holding her against him.

Sitting back on her heels, she looked down at him where he lay for a moment, before pulling her shift up over her head, watching his face for any trace of disappointment, but finding none. His hand hovered a moment over her skin, giving a look up at her asking permission before he touched her. His rough hands tickled a little, and she blushed all the harder as her hands starting to move to cover herself. His hand was gentle on her wrist, pulling the offending hand away from his view. He leaned up on his elbow, looking her over and pulling her back to him by her wrist, his lips finding hers, and his hands learning the shape of her body.

His fingers trailed down over her belly, a gentle touch that forced the hairs all over her body to stand up. She smiled against his lips, her thighs parting as she pressed even closer to him, wanting lighting a fire in her blood. She had wanted him for so long, and that desire was coming back on her with a vengeance. She pulled back from his lips and planted kisses against his neck and collarbone. His arm around her tightening, his other hand finding that sensitive place that he had touched her months before. Her eyes closed against the touch, and her breath came out a low whine after a moment.

She reached into the close space between them to undo the ties at the front of his trousers feeling herself losing to the battle of her desire for him. She could feel his body's reaction to her under his trousers, and she found herself curious, if a little nervous.

“Not yet,” he said, his voice sounding strange.

His eyes were so dark that she should have been afraid, and if he were anyone else, she might have been, but instead it excited her. He leaned his head down over her breastbone, pressing his lips over her skin a moment before pulling back to look at her. The hand on her clit increasing its attention, her head rolling back against the pillows as the pleasure came over her. He smoothed the back of his fingers over the shape of one of her breasts, his thumb stroking slowly over a nipple. She reached up to press her hand against his chest to feel his heartbeat, as much as to feel the firm muscles of his body, covered in golden brown hairs. 

She gripped at his shoulders, pulling herself up against him, her legs wrapping around his hips. He chuckled, following her lead. He dropped his head back down to kiss her again for a moment before standing up from the bed and taking his trousers off. She did not look at his member directly, almost certain that she would lose her nerve if she did. She pulled him back to her by his hand.

He rubbed his nose against hers, gently, resting on a forearm, his free hand tracing over her crooked leg, and looking at her a moment before finding the entrance of her, and slowly coming into her body with a slow deliberation. He studied her face for any sign of discomfort, and almost crying out as she pulled him closer into her. Eomer clenched his fist by her shoulder, taking a deep breath.

Lothiriel looked up nervously, afraid that she had hurt him, her hand smoothing the golden hair back from his face.

His breathing sounded labored as he looked back at her smiling a little, “are you comfortable?”

She grinned, “I think so.” There was a little pinch, but it did not hurt in the way she had thought it would. She moved her hips against his, in careful experimentation, and smiled again at the shudder that seemed to go through him, and the little groan that came out of him.

His hand gripped her hip, “Slow,” he said, looking at her, his eyes glinting darkly, as he began to move, setting a leisurely tempo, “slow, love.”

Her hands slid up over his shoulders, adjusting herself a little as she let him lead her, letting go of her inhibitions and letting herself enjoy what she had been told was a duty, but that she was finding herself enjoying. 

The hand on her hip squeezed into the soft flesh at her side, pinching a little as her thighs tightened their grip on him, the pleasure building in her core. His mouth was back on her shoulder, biting her just a little before kissing the side of her neck, trying to muffle himself. The low groaning sounds leaving him, exhilarated her all the more, and she felt his speed increase. Nails dug into his shoulder as she felt herself pushed over that ledge, everything feeling warm and precious as her vision went white for a moment. Her whole body tensed, and he stilled against her, his face pressed hard into her shoulder as she felt something warm fill her. She bucked her hips up against him for more, and stopped at the low whimper from her prone husband.

He lifted his face to look at her, something glowing in his eyes beyond the love that she normally saw there. His eyes closed slowly for a moment, and he rested his forehead against hers, trying to catch him breath before kissing her gently, "I love you."

She smiled back, "I love you," she traced a thumb over his brow, his head resting on her breast for a moment.

She could feel his heart beating against her chest like thunder. She felt adored, and important, and perhaps a little sore, but no worse for wear. 

"I feared I had hurt you," she admitted after a moment, when the glow had dimmed a little and he had withdrawn, aware as she was that it was a foolish thing to think.

Eomer smoothed the back of his fingers over her cheek, his smile warming her, his arm bent and his head resting on his hand, not speaking, but watching her, a small contented smile on his lips. Lothiriel giggled, turning her head into the pillow, a little embarrassed, in the way that had been made normal through her life at just the idea of being in bed with a man. He studied her face, a little afraid of what she had felt, but she looked back up at him, grinning ear to ear.

“I think I like being married,” she giggled, pulling the covered over her chest, a little impulsively.

He chuckled, resting his head back on her chest, “I will endeavor to ensure that you do,” he murmured, closing his eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair.

She kissed the top of his head, before laying her head back on the pillows, her arms encircling his shoulders, she smirked a little, tracing a fingertip over a set of fresh scratches over his shoulder blade.


	3. Chapter 3

She bit her lip as he leaned down to kiss her, and she tore from his embrace and ran across the open land, looking back over her shoulder to ensure he was coming after her, laughing as she hitched her skirts up as she ran. The wide expanse of the fields stretched beyond her, full of the promise of her new reign. Eomer caught her in his arms, and taking her down in the grass, his face shining with glee as he looked at her, leaning down to close the space between them, and kissing his wife. She slid her arms around his neck feeling so happy.

She looked up at him as he pulled back, smoothing a hand over her cheek, pushing some of her hair back from her face, and picking a few broken pieces of grass from her hair. Leaning into his touch, she looked back up him, her eyes closed against the feeling of his skin on hers. His eyes locked on hers, watching the color rise in her cheeks. She chewed her lip a moment before pulling him back down to her, feeling that stirring of lust in her belly that she was becoming more and more comfortable with. Eomer’s kiss was heated and she pushed up into the kiss, her tongue pushing into his mouth, her fingers raking against his scalp.

She pulled back from the kiss, looking at the man that she loved, pulling her skirts up, watching him, her face lighting as she did, taking in the way his eyes scanned over her.

His hands smoothed over her thighs before leaning back down, and kissed her again, his fingers tracing down over the skin of her thighs up over her hips and back again. His mouth traced along her jaw line in a slow tortuous trail. Her hands left him to undo the ties at the front of her dress, and then her kirtle and her shift down to her navel, pulling as much of the fabric away as she could manage in the open plains without undressing entirely.

Eomer peeled the cloth back, and let his lips find the fleshy parts hidden under her dressing and pressed gentle nipping kisses against her skin as he slid a hand under her clothes. He cupped one of her breasts, thumbing over the hardening nipple. Her fingers reached started at the ties of his jerkin, wanting to feel his skin. She pulled his hips down against hers, using her thighs to hold him as she pressed against his hardening desire.

She peppered what skin she could get to with kisses as she reached back down and loosened her grip on him to gain some space to get at the ties of his trousers. She guided him into her and felt him tense a little as he filled her, her chest pressing up under his attention. Her thighs tightened around him, wrapping her legs around his hips, pulling him tighter into her.

Lothiriel did not for a moment consider that this might not be the appropriate actions of a queen, or of a lady. She wanted her husband, and she was used to getting what she wanted to almost every end.

She bit his shoulder to quiet the cries that were struggling to come up, and was rewarded with a low moan, and he pulled his head back to look at her, his eyes glinting with excitement. He smiled at her a moment, and leaned his chest against hers, holding her firmly against the ground, his hips pushing firmer into her. She gasped at the firmness with which he was pressing in.

If she had heard the sounds she was making in any other place, she might not have recognized them, but her mind was losing the grasp on reality as the pleasure was building in her. She gripped at his hair, pulling at him, her hips bucking back up against him until she gave over to the oblivion.

She giggled quietly as she smoothed her fingers over Eomer’s hair, her other arm, still holding him against her chest, her breath coming in heaves. He nuzzled into the bare skin between the slim opening of her dress, kissing the pale golden skin he found, as if he had forgotten that it was there. He had not lasted or been able to go through the careful, dedicated cares that he normally gave to her, but she found that she did not care.


	4. Chapter 4

“Do you have council today?”

“No, I sent word that I was not to be disturbed,” he stole another sweet from her tray.

“Those are mine,” she smirked.

“Such an offense should be punished with a hanging,” Eomer laughed, settling his weight back against the footboard, pulling his feet up in the bed.

“I will show clemency, for I am a wise and just despot,” she grinned, drinking her coffee, “Your sentence will instead be that you will have to bend to all of my wishes.”

Eomer bowed his head, “of course, Your Majesty, I am your most humble servant.”

With careful hands, she moved the tray to the table by the bedside, and crawled across the coverlet into his arms, pressing her lips to his with giggling ferocity. She hated the guilty look in his eyes and wanted to remedy it.

She pulled her legs slowly up alongside his, straddling his lap as she kissed him a little less gently. It was a shameful thing, and she would find it hard to admit, but she had fought through the initial awkwardness to ask Heohild if she still had that damnable little book that Gadrien had called a wedding gift. She claimed curiosity, but she did not think her maid was convinced in the least even as she handed it back to her, failing to hide her smile. There had been some interesting bits of information in those sordid pages, and Lothiriel being ever in her own mind a dedicated scholar was curious to test some of the information.

She debated what she wanted, and was distracted by the strong arms, pulling her harder against that broad chest, clinging to his shoulders in response, wanting his hands on her more than anything, to be as close to him as she could manage. For a long and wonderful moment, she was lost in how much she wanted Eomer, and she was lost in his slow desperate touch, one palm between her shoulder blades holding her tight against him, the other so gently stroking her thigh. He pushed her back against the bedding, not parting from her, pressing hungry kisses against her throat before pulling his shirt off. She pulled him back down to her, fingers twisted in his thick hair, pulling just a little, gaining her the sweet reward of the moan against her shoulder.

Looking at him a moment, she felt her mind clearing just a little. She bit her lip and pushed him on to his back, pinning him down, her thighs pressing a little against his hips. “I thought you were meant to be bending to my wishes,” she smirked, tracing a fingertip along his jaw.

The smirk he gave her seemed a heady enough assent, borne in part by curiosity as to what she meant to do. His hands trailed over her thighs, anchoring them as he sat back up to kiss her. She smiled against the kiss before biting his lips, gently, her fingers picking up the hem of her nightgown and pulling it up over her head and tossing it aside without thought.

Eomer’s hands slid up her thighs along to her hips, and she gently caught his wrists, and pinned them by his shoulders, smirking down at him.

“I cannot touch you?” he asked, settling back against the bed crossing his arms behind his head trying to get comfortable.

“It is your penance,” she tried not to smile, and failed, leaning down to press kisses over his neck and chest, her hands reaching between them to help him out of his trousers, and throwing them to the floor.

She shifted her hips gently against his, letting him feel how wet she was, teasing him with a slow flick of her hips. He let out a breath, his hips bucking up against her instinctively, his gaze burning a path over her skin. Her fingers were delicate as she slid herself down on him, settling flush against him as she let him catch his breath. Biting her lip gently, she rolled her hips slowly, watching his arms twitch behind his head, his hands seeming to struggle with how to keep them off of from her.

Lothiriel kept her pace, slow and careful, leaning forward a moment to trace her lips over his in the ghost of a kiss before sitting back up, smiling as he tried to follow her, and stopping short, his eyes trailing over her breast, his hands clasped in fists at his sides. Trailing a fingertip down his chest, she hesitated a moment before bending back as far as she could while still moving her hips against him, her body making a bridge as her hands supported the weight of her body.

Watching her, and feeling her bend and move, was enough to finish him. He could not touch her, she had already told him so, which perhaps should not have excited him as much as it did. He leaned forward a little, shifting a leg to support her a little.

His breath against her skin made her shiver a little, and move quicker, that beautiful low whimper leaving her, but he could not see her face. He pressed his cheek against her belly, and tried to breathe a little, holding himself in check, even as he felt himself slipping. But he could hardly help it, overwhelmed by the sights and sensations. He bit at one breast, applying a little pressure before lapping his tongue over the pink mark that he left there.

Her back straightened slowly, and her eyes met his, her arms slowly slid around his neck, “Hold me,” she said, her voice a low growl against his ear. Her eyes sliding shut at his rough hands, holding her tight. She rolled against him a little harder, the last few stones in the dam finally giving, and the ecstasy swirling through her whole body with that high alto keen of pleasure, her dark head thrown back as her whole body tightened. She could feel his seed in her, his face pressed against her shoulder gasping silently.

He lay back, tired suddenly, but not moving his arms from her, wanting to hold her in place just a little longer. Her pale eyes searched his for a moment, Lothiriel’s face shining with the glow that always seemed to be there after their lovemaking had not waning yet. The back of her fingers smoothed gently over a cheekbone, and his heart fluttered a moment as he felt a quick jolt of love for her.

A gentle hand on her neck pulled her to his lips for a few soft, tender kisses as she felt him start to shrink within her. Slowly, she freed herself from their entangled limbs, rubbing her nose against his and smiling before she went to clean herself a little. Her hair had come loose, and she debated whether or not she should try to do anything to it at all.

“Where did you learn that?” her husband’s deep voice called over to her.

Lothiriel bit her lips together, a little embarrassed, “It is a secret.”

“I thought we were not meant to have secrets. Who have you been speaking with?” his voice was light and teasing. He wondered which of her ladies had been giving her advice.

“Promise not to tease me, or be cross,” she said after a moment, coming back to sit next to him.

Those words made him more nervous than they should have, he knew, but he nodded, “Of course.”

Getting up slowly, she crouched on her hands and knees by the side of the bed, and reached up under one of the supports, and took out a small, thin book, and held it out to him.

Trust his wife to learn bedroom secrets from a book,” he thought amused, looking through a few pages with some interest, “Where did you get this?” When she did not answer, he looked up, smiling a little at the thought that Lothiriel considered this a secret that so mortified her.

“You would never guess,” she smiled.

Eomer raised a brow at her, “Well?”

“My brother’s wife. I think it might have been meant as a joke, but you can never be certain,” she blushed, “it was a wedding gift, and… I should have gotten rid of it.”

“Perhaps not,” Eomer smirked, closing the little book and tapped her knee with it, smirking at her before going to pour them some wine, and settled back in bed beside her, watching her break off more pastry, careful not to get crumbs in the bed. He had promised not to tease her, and it was hard not to laugh, but he slid the little book under the bed, watching her pull one of the thin covers lightly over one of her shoulders, lounging, her mouth full. “I think, I will not read it, and let whatever other little tricks you have been learning be a surprise…” he smoothed the back of his fingers over the curve her shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

She was quiet for a long moment, “Let us retire, my love,” her thumb worried at his hand distractedly, her shoulder pressing against his, nudging him a little toward her. There was a warm glow in the look she gave him, and his misgivings were washed away with that look, and he felt more than a little ashamed for them.

Giving a quick look over his shoulder, to ensure no one was watching, he bent to trace his lips against the side of her face, “I think we are expected to stay a while longer, my queen.”

“Would they miss us for a few minutes?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye, the hand not holding his slid under his cloak, teasing his side a little on a slow trail along to his back, wanting to make up for her inability to just tell him.

He was of a mind to deny her, had he not been intrigued by the look she was giving him, “It is a long walk back to our rooms.”

“But I might know a shorter walk, if you can be quiet,” she smiled back at him.

He gave another quick look over his shoulder, scanning the hall behind them, “Well, no one seems to be missing us just now…”

Her smile widened, and she led him along by the hand, down the veranda and into the garden. The warm nigh air smelled like flowers, and Eomer followed her hurried steps, watching her with no small amount of amusement as she glanced back at him, grinning. There was a small stone structure, placed near the wall of the citadel, all but overgrown from neglect. Eomer reached out to her, his hand catching hers for a moment, and pulling her back into his arms, pressing a kiss to her lips, gently, smoothing his lips over hers.

“I used to hide here,” she admitted quietly when he pulled back, her hand slipped from his as she entered the small structure.

“From what?” His eyes could just make out the shape of her as she moved into the darkness of the abandoned guardhouse. He reached out to find her as he followed her when she gave no answer. As his eyes adjusted the dimness, he looked over gardening tools with a small smile at finding some practicality in the ornate palace. Her little hand took his, pulling him to her, and he stepped carefully not wanting to trip in the dark.

“You must not put any disorder to my hair,” she said, and he felt the smile as his lips found hers, his hands tracing the shape of her, the soft velvet under his hands seeming to compliment her body.

He followed her gentle hands as the pushed him back against a stone wall, pecking a few more kisses against his cheek, that sweet hand evaded his grasp, sliding down to his trousers with teasing fingers. His own fingers traced up the ties at the back of her dress until he felt the warm skin of her back, and cradled her head, to kiss her again, her mouth opening to his tongue. Her hand slid into his trousers, and her nimble fingers took gentle hold of him, earning her a throaty moan into her mouth.

“Shh,” she grinned, deviously, “You have to be quiet.” The whispered breath over his cheek to his ear was full of some secret plan.

As much as he wanted to ask what she had thought of, his tongue was quiet, even as he watched her carefully gather her skirts, and stoop a moment, his hand tightening a little on her neck.

With a raised brow, Lothiriel smirked up at him, kneeling, her unoccupied hand took his and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. The hand stroking him did not slow, and she said nothing, not asking permission before she took him in her mouth.

His whole body tensed for a moment, having not been sure what to expect, but even as she had kneeled had not honestly expected this.

Lothiriel tried not to smile at the loan groan emanated from her husband’s throat, his hand finding her shoulder and his fingers squeezing into the skin there. She cut her eyes up at him a moment to gauge if she was doing this correctly. She moved her tongue experimentally in her mouth and watched his head roll back against the wall, his fist pressed between his teeth to keep himself quiet.

She slid her tongue over the soft flesh in her mouth again, having been assured that he liked when she did that. She worked her hand in tandem with her mouth, trying to keep the tempo steady, even as his knees buckled a little.

“Thiriel, stop,” he begged, his voice a low groaning plea.

She paid him no mind, knowing him well enough to know why he asked her to stop, feeling the tremble starting in his hips and she increased her tempo a little, and his fingers dug against her neck, his thumb pressing against her throat. The feeling of his fingers around her neck sent a thrill down her spine, and she pulled him as far into her mouth as she could manage, the back of her throat squeezing him. Her eyes burned a little as her eyes watered, and she felt his seed in her mouth. Having never been in this situation, and having not thought this far ahead, she was not sure what to do but to swallow.

Eomer stared at his wife with heavy eyes as she stood, dusting her skirts off with hand, dust and dried leaves dropping away from her. She looked a little too pleased with herself as she smiled back at him.

“Did I do well?” Lothiriel asked.

“Yes,” his voice still sounded wrong to his ears. He righted his trousers, doing the laces with trembling fingers before moving across the small space to pull Lothiriel into his arms, kissing her a little roughly, his tongue probing into her mouth.

She pulled back gently, “We should get back, my love.”

He stroked the back of his fingers over her flushed chest, not sure of what to say to his smirking wife, “Are you certain?”

“I am,” she smoothed a hand over the embroidery of his cape, “I just wanted to ensure that you knew how much you were missed.”


	6. Chapter 6

Eomer wondered for a moment if it made him a bad father to be so pleased that his wife had come to take the mid-day meal with him, and without Theowen. He had never been a father, and he was uncertain how Lothiriel was managing it so well as she was. He felt a little like a spoiled child that he should have felt at all as if he was not being given enough of his wife’s attention. He knew it was stupid, and immature, their infant princess needing the attention that Lothiriel lavished on her. He wanted to have some time with her alone, even if it was only to sit and speak with her, or to simply kiss her fingers. He was a pleased when she sat on his lap as she ate her bread and meat, giggling a little when he nuzzled the side of her neck, breathing in her scent. With that giggle, his determination to slowly seduce his wife broke, and he scooped her eagerly up in his arms and carried her to their bed.

Lothiriel pressed her giggling face into his shoulder, nudging his tunic aside a moment and smirking a little, she nipped at the side of his neck, smoothing her tongue over the mark she had made on his skin. Eomer tossed her a little roughly on the bed, and he stared down at her, laying there on the coverlet. She stared back at him almost challenging him, pulling her skirts up over her knees. Her pale thighs lay out in the noon light, and he gave them a slow careful look, the backs of his fingers trailing gently over the softest flesh of her thighs a moment, savoring the warmth in that skin before he pulled back and helped her out of her dress. He kneeled in front of her his fingers gently wrapping around her ankle, kissing the side of her knee and pressing his lips against her skin, pulling her leg up over his shoulder, trailing his lips up her thigh, nipping at her thigh.

He liked the fleshy parts of her, loved the softness of her skin, even when he knew she was a little uncomfortable with the weight she was still trying to fight off from the pregnancy. He pressed kisses over the plumpest parts of her, the thighs, the stomach, the breasts. He shot a quick glance up at her, smiling at the blush and the gentle mewling sounds she emitted.

He was a little nervous for the length of time that had come and gone between now and the last time that they had been together. He pulled his tunic up over his head, and watched Lothiriel sit up, chewing on her lip as she watched him. It might drive him a little mad, if he was not made of heartier stuff than that. He assured himself so, but he did feel a thrill through his spine every time she chewed on that plump lip and watched him undress. It was almost more exciting to him that she did not help him, but rather watched, leaning back on her hands.

He thought to make some retort to that simmering look, but he found that he could not manage to speak, looking at her, his wife, his queen assessing him as if she had never seen him naked. There was a quick glint of mischief in her eyes as she tried to maintain the sense of heady indifference. Her smile broke through, and he felt himself weaken at that smile, and at the beckoning hand, reaching to him, and pulling him to her.

Her eyes closed slowly against his slow lips, shifting her hips against his caressing mouth. She twisted her fingers into his hair and pulled him up to her, not certain how long they could reasonably expect to have together, wrapping her leg around his hips, pulling him flush against him. He was looking at her, his hand smoothing over her hair. Leaning on his elbows over her, he smiled a little, just looking at her before he leaned down to kiss her. He was a gentle man, his hand smoothing over her thigh with careful fingers, giving a few more light squeezes to her thighs and hips.

Lothiriel sat up a little, and pushed him on his back, taking care not to hurry him. She pressed a long kiss against his mouth, a little harder than the kisses he gave her. She mounted him, pulling him into her and rolling her hips against his. She liked watching his face when she rode him. It was not the sort of thing that a well brought up princess should ever do, it would never have occurred to her to take her husband, to take what she wanted from her husband. But he always looked even more pleased when she took him, her hands clasping his as she pressed him inside of her, her head rolling back against the peerless physical ecstasy of their coupling. She took one of his hands, and bit her lip, pressing that rough hand against her throat, just a little. She didn’t know why she liked his hand on her throat, why sometimes she wanted him to hold her down, maybe because she knew how gentle he was, and because she knew that he couldn’t hurt her. It thrilled her just a little bit, and she sped her pace some, the low moaning sounding softly guttural as the muscles in her sex quivered.

His hands caught her hips, grounding himself in her, with careful dedication to last. The sweetly biting kiss he gave her was more than enough, and she pressed against his chest as he sat up to meet up. Lothiriel wrapped her legs around his hips, crossing her ankles behind his back, holding him in place. His beard bristled against her neck as he pressed his face there quieting himself. His arms wrapped so tight around her as he lost himself for the long moment of light.

She kissed him slowly, extracted her limbs from him carefully before she lay beside him in bed, “I might need to have Theowen watched more regularly,” Lothiriel sighed, leaning on a crooked arm, looking at him over the bed linens, her chest and cheeks flushed.

He gave a low grunt, neither assent nor disagreement, stroking his fingertips over the curve of a breast with a lazy ease, “You do not think me a dreadful brute, then?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, “of course not, love.”

The fingertips did not slow in their slow tracing path over her soft flesh. “I have wanted to be with you again for so long that I thought I might go a little mad.”

Lothiriel giggled, shaking her head at him, “Well, if you did not so constantly hold me in your sleep, perhaps you would not feel so.”


End file.
